


Flash

by missmichellebelle



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, Romance, photobooth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-12
Updated: 2012-12-12
Packaged: 2017-12-12 07:34:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/808965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“A photobooth, really? You can’t just go to the Apple store like a normal person?”</p><p>“Chris Colfer. The Apple store does not print out actual, tangible photostrips that I can pin on my fridge at home. Or I can talk set into letting me put it in Blaine’s locker, seeing as we’re in character and all.”</p><p>“…you want a photostrip of us on your fridge?”</p><p>“Duh.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flash

“Alright, we need to reset. Twenty minutes!”

Chris stretches his arms above his head, working out the kinks that are forming in his back from standing so long, and glances over at Darren.

“If I don’t sit down soon, I think I’m going to lose the ability to move my back,” Chris groans, reaching down to rub at the base of his spine. They’ve been shooting for hours already, and it’s not like the crew consists of slave drivers, it’s just that Chris’s small barely-there breaks consist of make-up touchups and drinking as much diet coke as he can.

“Well we can’t have that,” Darren muses, glancing around with a concentrated look on his face. Chris just raises his eyebrow, and then begins to head over to where their chairs (and his next diet coke) are waiting for them.

Until Darren grabs his wrist.

“Can you sit anywhere?” He asks, not waiting for Chris to answer before he’s tugging him in a direction that… Is not towards their chairs.

“Well…” Chris throws a sad look back at his chair, and his diet coke, and sighs. “Why?”

Darren just grins at him, in the sort of way where it’s easy to tell that he’s up to something. Chris narrows his eyes.

“Darren, what—?”

But then Darren is shoving Chris through a curtain and piling in after him, pushing them close together in what is apparently a dark, small space.

“…you need to learn to use your words.” Chris shifts, trying to get more comfortable on the tiny seat, but it’s a little difficult with Darren practically in his lap.

“I use my words all the time,” Darren says, affronted, and then reaches for Chris’s Kurt-bag. “You keep money in here, right?”

“Why? Are you mugging me?” Chris watches as Darren digs through it, and then pulls out a handful of quarters.

“Yes. I’m the Quarter Bandit.”

It’s then that Chris acknowledges the dim light that even lets him  _see_  Darren, and then let’s out a surprised laugh as Darren slots the money into the machine.

“A photobooth, really? You can’t just go to the Apple store like a normal person?”

Darren pauses, and looks up at Chris with a frown.

“Chris Colfer. The Apple store does not print out actual, tangible photostrips that I can pin on my fridge at home.” He bops Chris on the nose. “Or I can talk set into letting me put it in Blaine’s locker, seeing as we’re in character and all.”

“…you want a photostrip of us on your fridge?” Chris asks, timidly, watching as Darren finishes with the money and then starts browsing through the cheesy frames on the screen.

“Duh.” He pauses on one of the frames, which is decorated around the edges with balloons, but skips past it when Chris snorts. “I’d love to have one of us, you know, actually being us instead of Kurt and Blaine, but…”

But. Chris knows. Unless one of them buys a photobooth, or does something else ridiculous (like rent out an entire mall), they won’t have the opportunity. It’s risky enough that Darren just randomly spirited him away from set. There are fans everywhere, but Chris trusts Darren. If someone could see them, he wouldn’t have done it.

“One day.” Chris finds Darren hand, stuck somewhere between them, and squeezes it. Darren flashes him a smile. “Can we just not do a border?”

“Fine, be lame.” Darren slings his arm over Chris’s shoulders, and suddenly the tight space is much more comfortable. “Ready?”

“As ever.” Darren presses the big START button, and they both shuffle into the guidelines on the screen. Red numbers start to flash, and Darren quickly puckers his lips—Chris laughs, he can’t help it, and there’s one picture gone.

“How many are there?” Chris asks, as the numbers start again. Darren grins, big and adorable, and with two seconds left to spare, Chris leans in and kisses his cheek—Darren’s eyebrows shoot up just as the flash goes.

“Eight.”

Darren turns Chris’s head and then presses a kiss to his cheek, in return, and Chris’s eyes close as he smiles. Flash.

Five left.

“Funny faces.” Darren makes the OK sign with his fingers, and Chris knows he’ll turn them over his eyes before he even does it. Chris puckers his lips and puffs out his cheeks, trying not to laugh until the flash goes.

“Model faces!” Chris hurries to say, and they both narrow their eyes and tilt their chins, doing their best to smolder towards the camera.

“What next?” Chris asks, watching the numbers, but then Darren’s hand is gently taking hold of his chin and forcing Chris to look at him. “Darren?” He’s smiling at Chris, and leans towards him.

Flash.

Chris sucks in a fast breath as Darren kisses him, soft and slow and sweet.

Flash.

They pull apart, and Chris’s heart feels like it’s beating in his throat. He should open his eyes, there’s one picture left—flash.

“That’s eight,” Darren whispers, swiping his thumb over Chris’s lower lip. “Let’s look. And get you your diet coke.”

Darren really does know him too well.

In the end, even with them dressed as Kurt and Blaine, it’s obvious that it’s them—Chris and Darren. Darren says there’s no way he can put it on set  _now_ , but Chris thinks it has more to do with the way Darren touches the strip with a strange kind of reverence that even Chris, himself, feels. They stand shoulder to shoulder as they look at it, making comments back and forth, but Chris keeps getting drawn to the last picture.

His eyes are closed, but Darren’s aren’t, and the way he’s… He’s  _looking_  at Chris. Chris just wants to tear the picture off and slip it away, like a secret, like something precious he never wants anyone else to see.

“I think that one’s my favorite.” Chris brushes his finger tip over the image, and Darren’s lips curl in a small smile.

“Really? I’m pretty sure I like number six the best.”

The right-before-the-kiss shot. Chris looks at it and feels himself blush. Darren’s eyes are hardly open, his eyelashes fanned and hard to make out in the not-so-great quality of the photostrip. And then Chris looks at himself, and blushes, because he knows what Darren sees.

Because the way Darren had been looking at Chris is exactly how Chris is looking at Darren.


End file.
